I’ve written 87 obituaries since joining The Banner in October.

Eighty-seven stories of people’s lives, hopes, dreams — their failures, their successes, the ways they loved and were loved. People who died of illnesses, in house fires, in shootings, in car crashes. People who called the Baltimore area home.

I’m The Banner’s first obituary writer, and part of the reason I love my job is because I get to learn about so many fascinating people from all walks of life. I typically interview two to five people, sometimes more, for each obituary. The interviews can be quick 20-minute chats or intense three-hour talks.

I want to get to know the people I am writing about as intimately as possible. I want to picture them joking with friends, eating their favorite foods, going about their daily lives. Then, if I’m doing my job right, I can write a story that shares that picture with you.

Still, there’s a lot that doesn’t make it onto the page. Some of it’s personal, too — there’s so much I’ve learned about death and humanity that doesn’t really fit into the stories I write.

So here are some of my takeaways after nearly a year on the job:

Obituaries aren’t inherently sad

Whenever I tell people I write obituaries for a living, they are either startled — “Oh!” — or concerned: “Did you want to do that?”

The answer is yes, for what it’s worth. And it’s not as sad as it sounds.

In fact, most of the conversations I have are filled with laughter and sweet memories. People talk to me at length about someone they loved, sometimes for the first time since their death. It can be a healing experience.

There are often tears, but it’s like Jamie Anderson said: Grief is just love with no place to go.

Obituaries — at least the kind I write — are profiles of people. They are filled with fun facts, wild stories and personal reflections. They touch on the obstacles people faced, their blemishes and their mistakes.

They also tend to be more positive in tone than traditional news stories, but that’s a reflection of the people we talk to — family, friends, colleagues. It’s a reminder that even people we dislike have loved ones who think the world of them.

I often try to imagine what the subject of the obituary would think of the story if they were here to read it. Most of the people I write about led full, happy lives, even in the face of challenges, family drama or political controversy.

I want the story to reflect that, to do the person justice. I find it just as difficult to fit someone’s entire life into 1,000 words, whether they’ve lived 90 years or 18.

Don’t get me wrong — sometimes obituaries are very sad, especially when a death is sudden or traumatic. But even the saddest, most tragic circumstances provide opportunities to remember a person as they were in life.

I sometimes hear from people: “I know it’s a little weird, but I really like reading obituaries.”

Well, me too. It’s not weird at all.

I’ve had something in common with everyone I’ve written about

The first obituary I wrote for The Banner was about Stanton Gill, a Brookeville entomologist who sold produce at the local farmers market. I’d heard he was sometimes called the “persimmon man,” and during my research I came across a podcast interview he did two years prior about growing the fruit.

I’d just moved to Baltimore from Austin, Texas, where I’d lived in a house that had persimmon trees scattered across the yard. Don’t laugh, but I had never seen or heard of a persimmon before I moved there in 2020. But the fruit has been my Wi-Fi password ever since.

One of the most recent obituaries I wrote was about Samuel Jordan, an influential transit activist and perhaps the loudest voice for construction of Baltimore’s Red Line. It just so happened that we shared a birthday.

And, when I wrote the other week about Nancy Levin, the resilient divorce lawyer, her children told me their family celebrated both Christmas and Hanukkah every year. Mine too.

The connections are sometimes broad and obvious — maybe we lived in the same state at some point or we both thought of the beach as our “happy place.” Other times, the connections are more random or specific — we shared a favorite karaoke song, or we served on student council in high school.

But, with every one of them, it’s something.

It’s a nice reminder that we’re all just people. Maybe it’s a cliché, but we’re all more alike than we think. It’s a good reason to default to kindness and give grace when and where we can.

Everyone processes trauma and grief differently, and that’s OK

Sometimes, I’ll contact someone after learning of their loved one’s death, and they don’t get back to me for two or three weeks.

I get it. There’s so much to do, things to get in order, people to contact and events to plan. For some, it’s too early and too painful to talk.

Other times, people are ready to speak right away. Maybe the death was long expected. Maybe they’re in shock or need to keep busy.

Everyone grieves differently. Some people cry and stay in bed all day and don’t want to talk to anyone. Some sort through their feelings on social media. Some are stoic and going through the motions. It’s all normal.

That’s what’s front of mind for me when I talk to people — approaching them as sensitively as possible, minimizing harm, maximizing compassion. And, most of all, respecting their grief.

Someone who lost a loved one probably doesn’t want to hear that you know what they’re going through, because there’s no way to understand their exact experience. Nor do they want to hear that you can’t imagine what they’re experiencing, because it’s a reminder that this is their reality.

There are certainly exceptions, but the point is this: We never want to assume how people are feeling, because we just don’t know.

All we can do is ask another question, dig a little deeper and try to understand.

The Banner publishes news stories about people who have recently died in Maryland. If your loved one has passed and you would like to inquire about an obituary, please contact obituary@thebaltimorebanner.com. If you are interested in placing a paid death notice, please contact groupsales@thebaltimorebanner.com or visit this website.